


Intoxicating (You)

by p1013



Series: Kinkuary 2021 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clubbing, Drunk Sex, First Time, HP Kinkuary 2021, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Draco Malfoy, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29206539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p1013/pseuds/p1013
Summary: Draco tries his best to inconspicuously look behind him, but he's two-thirds of three sheets to the wind and fails miserably. Still, he manages to stay on his stool and no one else seems to notice him catching his trouser leg on the bar's footrest, so it's fine.He's also able to assuage his curiosity and confirm that the person talking is, in fact, one Harry James Potter.Who is continuing to insist he isn't.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Kinkuary 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140512
Comments: 60
Kudos: 294
Collections: HP Kinkuary 2021





	Intoxicating (You)

**Author's Note:**

> Day Three - Drugs/Intoxicants

When Draco walked into the bar, he knew exactly what he was going to spend the rest of his night doing: getting irretrievably, irresponsibly, iridescently drunk.

It's hours later, and he's at least three-quarters along the way to his goal. The room is slightly off-centre, he's no longer able to feel his teeth, and as he looks around the crowded interior, he finds himself lusting after more than one stranger in the place. He always gets horny when he's this level of drunk. The booze loosens his inhibitions, lets him forget some of those lessons he learned as a child about sex and morality. All that remains is a heated thrum in his veins and the half-hard weight of his cock against his thigh.

He's ordering another drink—some brand of whisky that's not nearly as good as what he has at home and twice the price point—when a familiar voice catches his attention.

"Yeah, I get that all of the time, but I swear, I'm not him."

Draco tries his best to inconspicuously look behind him, but he's two-thirds of three sheets to the wind and fails miserably. Still, he manages to stay on his stool and no one else seems to notice him catching his trouser leg on the bar's footrest, so it's fine.

He's also able to assuage his curiosity and confirm that the person talking is, in fact, one Harry James Potter.

Who is continuing to insist he isn't.

"No, really," Potter says to the drunken witch tilting towards him. "My name's Dudley, honest."

"But you look _jus'_ like 'im," she slurs, blurry eyes squinting at Potter's hairline. "D'you have a scar?"

He brushes aside his fringe to show off the blank expanse of his forehead. "Nope!"

Defeated, she sags before letting her eyes rove across Potter's body, taking in the toned forearms, the broad chest, the corded neck. A predatory light goes on in her eyes, and Draco jumps into action. He is nothing if not a hero.

"Dudley, darling!" he shouts as he stands. Even though the room spins, he keeps his steps even and dignified. He only trips on his own feet once. "I thought you'd never get here. I've been drinking on my own all night, waiting for you."

Draco throws his arm over Potter's shoulder and pulls him close. Nuzzling at Potter's ear, Draco whispers, "Play along, and I'll get you out of here without being molested," then gives the drunk woman a bright smile.

"And who might you be, pet? I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree with this one. He's not interested." His grin sharpens. "Nothing personal, though. You don't come with the right… _equipment_."

Gaping, the woman fights for words, but Draco's already moved his arm from Potter's shoulders to his waist, and he draws the man in close, then towards the bar.

Once Draco falls back onto his stool, his fresh drink waiting on the bartop, he laughs.

"What the hell was that, Malfoy?" Potter asks, his eyes as wide and confused as the woman's had been.

"That was me saving your arse from your adoring crowds, _Potter_." Draco takes a sip. "Or should I say Dudley?"

Potter flushes. "It's the name I use when I go out."

"Rather odd name, if I do say so myself." Another sip. "And I do. Say so myself."

"You're pissed."

"Absolutely. That's the whole point of going to a bar."

Potter's eyes flit over to the crowded dance floor with intent, then reluctantly go back to Draco. "I guess."

A flickering _Lumos_ goes off in Draco's mind. "Ah. _Ah_. I see."

"You see?" Potter's eyebrow raises. "You see what?"

"You're here to strike up a casual acquaintance with someone. To find someone to take up with. You're on the pull. Looking to get laid. Taking someone to bed."

"Are you a bloody thesaurus?" Potter asks, his face flushing a pleasant shade of red.

"Trying to get fucked," Draco adds. "And no, I am not a dinosaur. Don't look so startled that I know what they are, _Dudley_. We're taught about them in wizarding primary school, just as you Muggles are."

"That's not what a… Okay, fine. You're not a dinosaur, but you are absolutely sozzled."

"Again, that's why _I'm_ here." He raises his glass, then gives Potter a considering gaze. "Though I wouldn't be opposed to helping solve your little problem." Another glance. "Maybe not so little."

"Christ, Malfoy, watch your mouth." Potter reaches for Draco's whisky, but he pulls it away before the Prat Who Lived can grab it. "You need to slow down or something. You're going to get into trouble."

"Again, that is the point." He salutes Potter with his glass. "To trouble!" 

Draco downs the whole thing, swallowing every last overpriced drop. It burns like a bastard, and he has to fight back the overwhelming urge to cough.

"You're going to regret that in the morning."

Draco stands on unsteady feet. "Probably. Come on, Dudley. We're going to dance."

"We're going to wha—?"

The words are cut off as Draco grabs Potter's wrist and drags him into the crush of people. Draco's never heard this song before, but it's got a heavy bass beat that bounces through his bones. Almost unconsciously, he's swaying to it, his hips moving side to side with the rhythm. When someone bumps into him, Draco bumps back until they're grinding against each other. He tilts his head back and laughs, then draws Potter closer, slotting him against Draco's arse and grinding, first forward, then backwards.

Potter doesn't move.

Resting his head on Potter's shoulder, Draco leans in and shouts, "Come _on_ , Potter! If people see you standing like you've got a stick up your arse, no one's going to offer to replace it with something better!"

Draco sees Potter sigh, the sound too quiet to carry over the music, but he does put his hands on Draco's hips and start moving to the beat. It's a little off-tempo and far from elegant, but considering how badly Potter danced at the Yule Ball, it's a vast improvement.

Keeping his head on Potter's shoulder, Draco closes his eyes. He reaches behind him and threads his hand in Potter's curling hair, grinds his arse against Potter's hips. There's a flash of heat when Draco feels the ridge of Potter's cock, and he drags his body against it again and again, feeling it harden as he does.

Draco lets his head fall to the side and brushes his lips against the hinge of Potter's jaw. The hands on his hips tighten, then hesitantly shift forward until they're slotted into the pockets of Draco's trousers. They pull him closer. One of Potter's fingers brushes against Draco's cock, and Draco shivers.

"So," Potter shouts as Draco does his best to leave a bruise against Potter's skin, "what kind of trouble were you looking for tonight?"

"Honestly, I hadn't decided." Draco takes a nipping bite that makes Potter curse. "But I'm thinking your kind might be just the thing."

Potter shifts his hand in Draco's pocket until his fingers are resting on Draco's inner thigh. He squeezes. "You're drunk, Malfoy."

"Doesn't mean I don't know what I want." He grinds back on Potter's prick with intent, lets it ride the crease of his arse. Potter rests his nose under Draco's ear and exhales sharply.

Draco feels lips on his skin when Potter asks, "What're you trying to do?"

"Pull. Is it working?"

Laughing, Potter drags the tip of his nose across the sensitive shell of Draco's ear. The room spins, though Draco isn't sure if it's from the liquor finally hitting his bloodstream at full force or the desire like lightning under his skin.

They dance together—slow undulating motions of hips against hips, hands against skin, mouths against pulses—for one song, then another. Potter's cock stays hard and insistent against Draco's arse as he falls further into the music. Once he loses himself to it, Potter's not a bad dancer. The stiffness—ha—from earlier has faded, as vague and soft as Draco's mind.

There's a brief break in the pounding dance music, some upbeat pop tune that has everyone on the floor jumping instead of grinding. Draco doesn't particularly like this kind of music, but he's getting ready to join in the fray when Potter leans in again and breathes a question against Draco's ear.

"You want to get out of here?"

"You think I'm that easy?" Draco asks before twisting in Potter's arms. The man's eyes are blown wide, black circles rimmed with verdigris, and as he stammers, looking for a reply, Draco laughs. "You'd be bloody right."

They twist and twine their way through the crowd, Potter dragging Draco towards the front door before Draco catches on and redirects them to the back. It's surprising how easily Potter gives into the change in direction, letting Draco lead them away from the lights to the dim hallway that houses the toilets and the door that opens onto the alley behind the bar.

The night air is cold, but not unpleasantly so. Sweat cools on Draco's skin, and he sighs, eyes closing in relief from the heat of the club, before Potter's arms are around him again, and Potter's tongue licks the sweat from Draco's neck.

"You're a fucking menance," he murmurs before nipping at the dip where Draco's neck meets his shoulder. At Draco's hissed curse, Potter soothes the ache with his tongue. "Where are we going? Yours or mine?"

Draco tilts his head to the side, making more room for Potter's roaming mouth. "I really don't care, Potter, as long as it ends with my cock in your arse."

Potter groans, then thrusts against Draco. "What if I want it the other way around?"

"Maybe we'll have time for both." He grinds back, then drags Potter's palm to rest on top of his own erection. "But I'm not doing it in a fucking alleyway."

"Hold on, then," Potter says a second before Apparating.

The wide, yawning blackness is disorienting, and when they reappear in a front room that Draco vaguely recognizes from fuzzy, childhood memories, the feeling worsens.

He's not going to be sick, but everything is spinning.

Maybe he shouldn't have downed that whole glass after all.

If Potter's similarly disposed, he's showing no signs of it. No, he's got his front pressed against Draco's back, and his competent, questing hands are already under the hem of Draco's shirt and following the thin trail of hair into his trousers. Draco curses when Potter shoves his hand beneath the waistband to grab at Draco's cock. His trousers are far too tight for it to feel good to have someone's bloody arm shoved down them, but Potter's hand is callused and warm, and he's somehow managed the perfect amount of friction and pressure around Draco's prick, so Draco's not going to complain. Instead, he fumbles for the fastening, eases the pressure around his waist, and groans as Potter's hand tightens around him.

"You've no idea," Potter says in between kissing Draco's neck and shoulders, "how badly I've wanted to do this."

Draco's hand scrabbles for purchase on Potter's body. "Tonight?"

"For-fucking-ever." Potter lets go of Draco's prick, which is disappointing, but then he spins Draco around, crowds him against the nearest wall, and kisses the everloving shit out of him.

Not disappointing at all.

Draco wonders if he tastes like whisky, because kissing Potter feels like drinking it. Heat suffuses his entire body, leaves him flushed and panting. His hands scrabble for purchase on Potter's back, and they only grip tighter when Potter lifts Draco off of the bloody floor and slams him into the wall again.

"Fuck!" Draco yelps, wrapping his legs and arms around Potter so that he doesn't fall. Potter laughs, then goes back to kissing Draco and fumbling for his fly. He somehow manages to keep Draco up against the wall, even with only one arm.

Draco's disgustingly turned on by it.

Mind fuzzy with alcohol and searing lust, Draco lets Potter lead. Because he's a gentleman, Potter spits into his hand before taking both of their cocks in his grip. He thrusts, hard and fast, against Draco's prick, his mouth a voracious animal let loose on Draco's neck and shoulders. Draco's going to be bruised like a peach in the morning, but he lets his head thunk into the wall behind him and leaves Potter to his feast.

"So fucking hot," Potter murmurs, his thrusts getting uneven and rough. "God, I want to bloody ruin you."

"Be my guest," Draco gasps. He pulls Potter's mouth back to his, fucks it with his tongue, and comes over Potter's fist and Draco's stomach.

It gets a little blurry after that. Drink and orgasms have a way of making Draco's mind go blank, and with the rock-hard body of Harry Potter wedged between Draco's legs, the man's cock a blistering hot length against Draco's softening one, it's a worthless endeavor to do more than float in the bliss of it all.

Potter comes with a curse, and Draco's pleased and horrified to note that he's managed to get spunk on Draco's chin. He wipes it clean on Potter's shoulder, then snuggles in, content and sleepy.

"Malfoy," Potter asks, his voice hazy. "Are you falling asleep?"

Draco hums in agreement. "You said you'd take me to bed."

"I did not."

"Close enough." Draco yawns and burrows deeper. "You smell nice. Like… wood chips."

Potter laughs. "Wood chips."

"And oranges."

"Okay, Byron," Potter says with another laugh. He hoists Draco up from the wall and wraps his arms around Draco's hips. "Let's get you to bed, then."

Draco falls asleep before he even hits the mattress. 

**Author's Note:**

> And then Draco wakes up in Harry's bed in the morning and is vaguely horrified, but more turned on, and then they fuck and start dating and fall in love. blah blah blah.


End file.
